Moving On
by TazFlan93
Summary: "She could have killed me, but she didn't. She saved me; Deeply Disruptive Dexter. And here she was, Darkly Disturbed Debra. The future can only tell us what is to happen, but it has to arrive first. And we have to survive until it does." Can Dexter and Debra move on or will they succumb to the demons inside? After season 7 fic, spoilers. Rated M for Deb's mouth. Debster. On hiatus
1. Chapter 1

A lot of after season 7 stories going on and I've decided to try one myself. Nothing AU had happened before that, completely canon up until now. Enjoy!

* * *

Moving On.

Chapter One: Darkly Disturbed Debra.

* * *

I never thought about the end. The finishing of my journey, the end of the tunnel. I always believed myself to be somewhat unique, that I would survive out throughout the wars of humanity by myself. No one could stop me because no one knew my secret. But that all changed only a few mere months ago.

I can still remember it. The sound of the sword plunging into Travis Marshall, blood gushing out of him. But then I look up, to star into the horrified face of Debra Morgan...my sister.

I'm still amazed I managed to weasle my way out of that. I actually felt fear as Deb aimed her gun at me. Even if I did manage to convince her it was a one-time thing, she soon found out more. About my...Dark Passenger. But, the Dark Passenger is just...me.

It was my journey to the end; Deb finding the bloodslides, meeting and killing Issac, falling in love with Hannah and finding out that my captain was suspecting me as the Bay Harbor Butcher, denying it and framing Doakes. Even if it was true.

But here we are, in a cargo hold, two alive bodies and two very-dead people. One of them called Estrada, one of the killers of my mother. One of the causes of my killing urges.

All I can hear is her cries.

So emotional, so over-powering. She truly regrets piercing a bullet into LaGuerta, killing her to save me. I lay my head against the side of the cargo hold that the lifeless bodies of Estrada and the Captain of the Miami Metro Police Department. Deb clutches LaGuerta so tightly, staining her dress with the crimson substance that was her blood.

As I crouch in front of Deb, unsure of what to do I hear her choke out the same words every few minutes;

"I _hate_ you!" She spluttered, hugging LaGuerta tightly.

I didn't try to make her take it back. I'd hate me if I was in her shoes. I just stared at her but I had two dead bodies around me and we had to get moving.

"Deb..." I say softly, moving to grab her arm. She recoils with a sob, clutching LaGuerta so tightly that more blood pours from the bullet wound. I reach out again, "Deb...we have to go."

"No!" She wails, shaking her head as she choked the sentence out, "I-I can't."

I take a firm grip of her arm and pull her away. She doesn't hit me, she doesn't have the will to now. She clutches onto me now, burying her head into my neck. I feel her tears slip down my skin but I pay no attention to it. I wrap my arms around her, hugging her tightly, "Ssh, it's okay." I sooth her like she's Harrison's age. She might as well be.

She feels so weak, so vulnerable. Deb always tries to hide her emotions, like me but many people are aware of her attempts. It's a rare, yet somehow common thing when people know I am. Doakes, Lila, Hannah, Miguel, the list goes on but the only one who knows that is still alive or in my life is Deb.

"I-I couldn't, fuck, D-Dexter!" Deb shook her head as she tried to splutter out words, "I fucking killed her!" She shoved me away, more angry than upset now, "I fucking killed someone and it wasn't even in self-defense! The shits hit the mother-fucking fan, Dexter!"

I struggle to my feet, walking to Deb, "Deb...we need to go. Before someone appears." I draw in a sharp breath. It's hard to believe that I'm actually speechless, "Go back to your car, I'll clean up here." I then add, "And do not ring the police, stay in the car...get in the car, and I'll join you after this and when I move my car."

She sharply nods and I can tell she won't disobey me. As she left, I gathered up my tools before turning to Estrada as I quickly shift his body position. Countless crime scenes showed me how to position a body in a way of a true homicide. Once that was finished I turned to LaGuerta and fixed her as well. I gathered up all my plastic and knifes before making my way first to my own car. I quickly start it up and drive past Deb's to get it out of the courtyard. I park it a good few meters or so away from it.

I then made my way to Deb's car. As I got in the drivers seat, I look to her, her dress and hands coated in blood. LaGuerta's blood. It's Rita's death all over again; finding a person I love covered in blood

"We better stop at your apartment before we head back to the restaurant."

"I'm not in the fucking mood to party, Dex..." Her tone is rough and croaky, throat dry from all the tears, "There is no fucking way I am going to a party and pretending everything is fan-fucking-tastic." She seemed to be swearing in every sentence. Her defense. She's hiding the pain.

I start the car and reverse out, leaving, "We have to appear normal. If we don't turn up, something is bound to go wrong."

"Fuck you.." Was her reply.

As I drove in silence I wondered what must be going through Deb's head.

She could have killed me, but she didn't. She saved me; Deeply Disruptive Dexter. And here she was, Darkly Disturbed Debra. The future can only tell us what is to happen, but it has to arrive first. And we have to survive until it does.


	2. 3, 2, 1, Welcome to the End of Your Life

Thanks to those who followed the stories. Be sure to review!

Unlike last chapter which was in Dex's P.O.V this is from the eyes of our favorite cop!

Oh, and I already had this chapter written before the story was even published.

Warning: A LOT OF BAD LANGUAGE IN THIS CHAPTER! It's Deb, dudes, expect it. xD

* * *

Moving On.

Chapter Two: 3, 2, 1...Welcome to the End of your life, Debra Morgan.

* * *

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I hate my fucking life. My motherfucking, stupid-ass life.

And the fucking cause of this is the man I'm in fucking love with this.

This is not a fucking cheesy movie where the main hero is some chick with boobs the size of a watermelon who has a one-night-stand with some fucking beefcase played by some drug-addicted actor who knocks the broad up, she hates his guts, they bond over the nine months and she has his demonic kid and they fall in love.

You wanna hear my movie? Well grab some fucking popcorn and sit your ass down 'cause this is gonna be a fucking blockbuster.

Once upon a time there lived two people, one a girl and the other a boy. The girl put bad guys away and the boy examined blood to help put a bad guy away. One day, the girl visited a church only to see the boy stabbing someone. The girl was forced to live with knowing that and the fucking boy continued to kill people. It wasn't that bad (This is the part in the sad movies when things get slightly fucking better) and she even wanted him to do one kill but then this bitch with blonde hair comes along and the boy falls in love with her because she also kills people but not the way he does. So, the two have a fucking fairy-tale romance and when the cop girl admits her feelings to the boy like a fucking spastic they end up drifting apart until one day the boy gets the blonde-bitch arrested. But then another cop woman comes in and says she wants to arrest the boy. The cop girl stops it from happening but he is still arrested. Thankfully the boy is not charged but he has to kill the woman when she is close to what happens. But when he is about to kill her, he kills someone else and then the girl arrived on the scene and ended up shooting the fuck out of the other woman.

That's the end of the tale? Wanna see the sequel? Well fucking wait a while and it might happen.

Back to the real world, I was now in my apartment with the boy of the movie, also known as Dexter Morgan.

As he turned to me, he sighed, "Deb, go get changed."

I stay still for a moment but I eventually turn. I have to go on, act like nothing is wrong. But everything is wrong, wrong, _wrong._ In my room, I open up my wardrobe. I quickly take out a pair of jeans and a simple tank-top. I was not dressing up fucking fancy. Someone ask why I was out of my dress, I'll spill some dumb-ass lie about dropping something on it.

I return to Dexter, not bothering to put on a jacket because it was a warm night. Fucked-up, but damn it was hot weather out there. I don't feel under-dressed to Dexter. Why didn't I never notice he always wore those fucking cargo pants and that stupid Henley?

"Alright, let's go. Don't wanna miss the start of the new year." Dexter headed for the door and I actually consider crying again.

But I don't. I follow him, get in my car and we drive. We arrive with fifteen minutes to go until the new year. As we get out, Dex quickly develops a stupid grin that I want to wipe it off with one swing of my fist. We enter the party and soon we are separated as Batista approaches Dexter and leads him off. I hear him laughing before I can even go off to the bathroom.

It was empty, thank fucking Christ. I lean on the wall, taking in sharp breaths, "Fuck, fuck.." Then I release it, "Motherfucking, cock-sucking, shit-causing, cunt-acting, self-depressed, serial-killing ass!" The door swings open and I quickly turn to the sink and pretend to wash my hands. I stare at my reflection and realize that I was a mess. I didn't have time to re-do my make-up so my face was a blurry mess of tears. I drench my face in water and look up. The same, brunette-colored with streaks of blonde stares back at me.

As I leave the bathroom, I am approached by Masuka.

"Morgan." He grinned before it dropped, "Where's the hot dress? I can't admire that." He looked at my tank-top which I now noticed clung to my body and the grin soon appeared again, "Never mind, keep the look."

"Where's Dexter?" My tone is unamused. It usually is talking to the bald-headed retard but now it seemed even colder.

"Think I saw him with Angel." Masuka looked over his shoulder and I was off before he could try to hit on me.

I storm through the crowd who are all looking at the large TV screen that showed the last ten seconds of the year.

10...

I fucking hate Dexter. And Hannah. And LaGuerta. I hate fucking everyone!

9...

I have to find him. I just need to have a proper talk about this.

8...

I should be happy. LaGuerta's gone and no one thinks Dex is the Bay Harbor Butcher.

7...

But he is. My doughnut-buying, father-of-one and widower brother is a serial-killer.

5...

Why do these last ten seconds always have to be shouted out?

4...

Where the fuck is he?!

3...

A flash of a Henley shirt catches my eye and I turn.

2...

There he is, talking to Angel. As if I alerted his presence, his head slowing lifts up.

1...

As everyone cheered out "HAPPY NEW YEAR", his cold emotionless eyes stared into mine and it was then I realized why everyone counted down. To think back on the year. Let's re-do a countdown for me.

10. Found out my brother was a serial killer.

9. Didn't turn him in, I instead helped him cover the murder up.

8. Tried to stop him from killing and failed.

7. Actually fucking enjoyed hearing about a kill he did.

6. He met a blonde-haired killer like him.

5. He fucked her. Multiple times.

4. I told him I loved him and got rejected.

3. My superior convicted him of being a serial killer.

2. She nearly had evidence he did.

1. To stop it from happening, I shot her.

What a fucking year. Let's hope it's as great as the last!

3, 2, 1...Welcome to the end of your life, Debra Morgan.

Dexter stands up and glides along to me. How the fuck do you glide in boots? He ignores the cheering crowds and he looks down at me.

"Happy New Year, Deb." His arms wrap around me and he hugs me tightly.

I stiffen. I always felt safe in his hugs. As kids, teens and even adults. His arms just felt like a castle. A serial-killing castle. Fuck! Why do I have to love him?! I however give in and my arm go around him, returning the gesture.

I felt his lips accidentally brush against my ear and I bit my lip. I was a fucking sicko and he knows it. No one loves a serial killing, let alone their brother!

It didn't matter if they weren't related. Dex and her did everything a brother and sister should do. He helped her ride a bike, she put plasters on him when he failed at skateboarding, he made her stop crying when her goldfish died and she comforted him when he was upset about their mother being sick.

It continued as they grew older. When they were teens, Dexter listened as she rambled on about a crush she had. Debra offered him girl advice though she now believes it was apart of his mask to understand the genders. Dexter was there when she said her first swearword and Deb nearly got herself expelled from school for beating up a girl who insulted her brothers.

It stayed in their adult years. Dexter saved Debra from his own actual flesh and blood and in return, Deb would often get him old casefiles for some reason but how she knew. It was "research". Dexter was there to hold and hug her whenever she awoke screaming from a nightmare during the aftermath of the Rudy incident and Deb finally got him back for saving her life but saving his by shooting LaGuerta.

"I love you, you know that?" Dex then says as he breaks the hug but his hands remain where they were for a moment to long as he quickly drops it.

I sigh, "Yeah, whatever."

He knows what I'm thinking of, "Deb...I'm sorry-"

"It's not like I expected you to love me back that way..." I frown, "Don't bother wasting your fucking breath."

Dex stares at me and looks away as Batista appears to wish us a Happy New Year. We fake our happiness and return the gesture to him and others but all the time we know we don't mean it.

The party breaks up well into the early morning and we drive home, seeing as neither of us drank. Dexter stops outside my house, "Can I stay here tonight?"

"Sure, whatever." I mutter, exiting the car and heading straight for the house. I'm inside the door before Dexter can get out of my new car.

I storm into the bedroom and shut the door loudly, a sign I don't want him to enter. I collapse to my bed and I frown.

My life is officially over. Up until now, I survived with Dexter and his secret but now I just couldn't. The guilt in myself was unbearable. I was never going to get on with my life. I stumble to my bathroom and take out a sleeping pill and swallow it and head back to the bed. I quickly slip into some shorts and as I try to pass out I sigh and glance at the 2012 calender on the wall.

"Happy fucking New Year..."


	3. The Flower

I forgot the disclaimer. I do not own Dexter or any of it's characters. I just own the plot and some characters making some appearances.

* * *

Moving On.

Chapter Three: The Flower.

* * *

She's asleep.

I can tell when Deb is asleep even by not being in the room. It's just the aura around the place. Quiet, too quiet. Even if Debra pretends to be asleep I can still sense it. It's just the natural order of things.

I'm lying in the bed I had gotten to know over my trip into the "rehab" of stopping my addiction for blood. I stare at the ceiling for a moment as the world is quiet. For a minute it's like there are no problems. LaGuerta isn't dead, she doesn't suspect me of being the Bay Harbor Butcher and Deb doesn't know what I am. I pause as a certain blonde-haired serial killer comes to my mind.

Hannah. I love her. _Loved_ her. Those feelings are just a waste now. Nothing to come to my mind anymore. She's in jail, she's going away for life and she won't return. I will never see her again.

The exhaustion of the night begins to wear on me. My eyelids began feeling heavy and I am constantly yawning. I may be different from humans but I need sleep like them regardless of what I am.

I relax into the bed and then shut my eyes, asleep in seconds.

Morning comes quickly. Too quickly. The smell of something cooking hits my nostrils and I awake with a loud yawn. I roll out of the bed, still clad in my clothes from the night before. I exit the room to see Debra in her kitchen cooking.

"Morning." I greet her.

Deb pays no attention to me, frowning as I start up my phone. I see a missed call there from "MMPD" which stands for "Miami Metro Police Department".

"I got called in a few minutes ago." Deb explains as she places two plates full of bacon and eggs on the table. I sit down simply and start to eat, "It's LaGuerta..."

My jaw stiffens, mouth full of egg and bacony goodness. I don't reply as Deb begins to finish on her food and I then speak, "You up for it?"

"Up for what? Seeing the woman I fucking shot? I'm fantastic, Dex, fucking great!" Deb frowns and her fists bunch up as if she considers hitting something. I just watch her as I continue eating, wondering what she will do. She takes the right choice and loosens the hold and sighs, "Hurry the fuck up. No time for a shower or a change of clothes."

I sigh, "Terrific." I push back my chair and Deb grabs my arm and drags me along the way to her car. I focus my game face. I need to make sure the crime scene is secure with nothing to pin on us.

* * *

"Yep, both of them blew themselves." Masuka slowly nodded before realizing what he said, "With a gun, not actual blow each other." He looked at me, "How you feeling?"

"Better compared to Angel." I flatly reply as I crouch down to investigate their bodies. I glance at the splatter of vomit that happened when Batista saw who it was that was shot. I feel pity for him, of course I do. LaGuerta just had to be killed. She would still be alive if she didn't delve so far into this case.

Masuka sighed, "Yeah, poor guy. Don't know what he say in her though, she's not that hot."

"Focus, Masuke!" Deb barked as she enters, eyes narrowed, "You're not getting payed to fucking debate about woman."

"True, wonder what kinda job would that be like." Masuke pondered and when Deb shot him a large glare he coughed, "Okay, so, I'm guessing they both shot each other. LaGuerta fell back against the wall as the bullet pierced her, though I'm curious about the numerous splatters of blood around her clothes when they show no signs of injury..."

Deb stiffens up, and for good reason. Her hugging LaGuerta to death (No pun intended) had obviously caused the blood to spill everywhere. To cover up the mess, I quickly say, "The way she fell back would cause the blood to tilt a little out of the wound."

Masuke seems convinced enough, "I'm gonna check on Angel." He left the shipping container, leaving the two siblings alone.

"Deb..." I start.

"Thanks." She muttered.

I couldn't fight my raised eyebrow, "For what?"

"Helping me there." Deb sighed, not looking at me as she stares at LaGuerta's dead body.

"You're welcome." I say by instinct as I lift my camera and take more photos, "The crime scene seems secure and no traces of evidence to anyone else being here is here." I speak as if it was any other kill.

Deb catches on, "Alright, keep looking." The simple instructions tell me oh so more. It cries out "Search the place from head to fucking toe or you're fucked".

I nod, smiling, "I will." Turning, I snap a few quick pics before exiting. I spot Batista, leaning back on a squadcar and I approach him, "Angel...I'm so sorry."

"She was fine..." He tearfully tells me, "I spoke to her just yesterday, she was so fine...so normal...so alive."

This is where I detach from humans. Their emotions. Tears are rare to me, though I know I have cried in my life. Killing Brian, finally grieving Rita's dead, I even managed a few secret tears for turning Hannah in. But still, I never understand it. How does feeling sad just make a few salty drops of water splash down your face and make your nose running. It just makes no sense to me.

After I tell Angel I'm sorry again I head out and for my hidden car, getting in. I have to get back to my apartment, change into clothes and also check on Harrison. Jamie is probably going crazy.

I arrive outside my apartment but a large plant catches my interest.

I never have flowers up or around the apartment, I see no regard for them. But of course I know someone who does...

Hannah. She was here. But how? She's in prison.

Frowning, I rush into the apartment and if it wasn't for Jamie playing with Harrison I would go crazy.

"Dexter?" She stands up, arms holding my son, "You didn't come last night, you okay?"

"Just...had a lot to drink, I guess." I fake a little smile as I approach them.

"Is my brother okay? I mean, he was married to that woman after all." Jamie asks as she hands me Harrison. He hugs my tightly and I can't help but smile truly.

"He's not the best but Angel's a fighter." I tickle my sons tummy for a moment, "You can head back, thanks for minding Harrison for me."

"No problem." She smiled and kisses Harrison's cheek for a moment before leaving.

I sigh, "What am I going to do, Harrison?"

He just stares at me, "Ha-Ha.."

I know what he's trying to say.

Hannah.


	4. Where do we go from here?

Guess what? We're bouncing back to Deb! Yeah, she and Dex are basically the main characters. Instead of just Dexter being the storyteller, we're delving into both of their minds.

Oh, and if anyones interested in a Dexter Season Eight Roleplay, I have one on the site. Just go to the Dexter forums.

* * *

Moving On.

Chapter Four: Where do we go from here?

* * *

Fuck me, I need this.

The adrenaline pumping through my body, the sweat going down with every thrown punch at the leather. My face is in total concentration, nothing more as I pound against the heavy object. Music sounds throughout my ears but I ignore. There's only one tune playing to me tonight and it's the sound of my beating the fucking crap out of a punchbag.

It had been a week since LaGuerta's body was discovered and the case was still open. Angel insisted that they get perfectly solid proof on what happened to her. Dexter was on it before anyone, making sure that all facts point to Estrada and LaGuerta shooting eachother. When it was fucking me that shot LaGuerta!

Damn it! I let out a wince as my clenched fists flutters by the punchbag and whacks against the wall as I lost focus. And let me tell you, I have a LOT of anger built up inside me. I wish I could release it on my stupid brother but he has been cooped up in either his lab with Masuka or his apartment in the presence of Jamie and Harrison.

I see a clock out of the corner of my eye and groan noticing how late it was and that I was working in the morning too fucking early. I grab my towel and down half a bottle of water before hitting the showers.

When I emerged ten minutes later, fully refreshed I step out of the gym and notice the moon. It was a full one tonight. It stared at me, all fucking high and mighty with its bright rays looming down on the street. I always hated the moon. Moon means night, which is dark, which is the part of day Dexter goes out and stabs a killer. I may have barely learned to accept it but why does he have to do it so specific?!

My phone buzzes in the pocket of my shorts and I pull it out, noticing it was the Prince of Serial Killing himself.

"What the fuck do you want, Dex?"

"_Hair."_

"The fuck?"

_"Your hair...it's on LaGuerta's clothes."_

"Shit!" I curse as I reach my car, "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"

"_It gets worse...LaGuerta's clothes are in evidence, I can't get near them."_

"Can't I just say it fell on her during the crime scene?"

"_Maybe, but I could just..."_ His voice trails off.

"No, hundred fucks times no!"

_"No one would notice me. I would be in and out in a second."_

"Dexter, no! You can't just do whatever the fuck you want to do when something bad happens!"

_"Deb...listen to me-"_

"If you even fucking try it I will rip your throat out and fucking hang it on a tree!" With that said, I hang up, fighting the urge to throw my phone at a wall or something. I get in the car and sigh, laying my head back.

Why did it have to happen to me? Everything was perfect a while back, well, not perfect but life was good. I didn't know what the fuck Dexter was doing and all was perfectly well in the world. Then I, being a huge fucking retard, walked right into that fucking church!

Now months later, I'm caught up in the biggest shit storm in the history of the world. Like fuck! I shot LaGuerta to save that motherfucker and I am living with the guilt of it. How the fuck does Dex go on with his life after killing someone for no reason. Fucking cocksucker!

I start up the car, driving in the direction of my house but I barely pay attention. Once I stop outside my house I notice an unidentified vehicle parked outside my place. On instinct, my hands go to the glove department in the car and I pull out my SMG, hiding it in the waistband of my shorts as I get out of my car. I then notice the door of the car swing open and a suit-clad man comes out. The suit is pretty snazzy. Another figure comes out the other door; female wearing a dress-suit. Who the fuck are these people?

"Miss Morgan?" The man asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Who's asking?" I ask, eyes narrowing.

"Special Agent Walsh from the FBI." He flashed me a badge that I take as proof, "This is my partner Agent Saunders." His blue eyes dart back towards me, "We just have some news for you you."

I let out a groan. This can't be good. Did Dexter get fucking caught?! Are they here to arrest me?

"Fine." I mutter, "Ya wanna come in?" I wave a careless hand at the entrance to my house. When they shook their heads, I cross my arms, "The news?"

"You might wanna be extra careful." The female spoke up, "Hannah McKay suffered a seizure after her trial. She was taking to hospital but somehow escaped."

My heart skipped a beat? She escaped? "Serial Killer" Barbie escaped?! What the fuck?! Who was the fucking bastard watching her that let her escape? I try to slow my increased breathing, "I see..."

"Yes." Walsh nods his head, "We are just telling you because we are joining the case to track her down and you were the only squad member not present today."

"Oh, yeah, day off." I mutter again before clearing my throat, "Well, thanks for dropping by."

"We also are here to drop a message for your brother. He was reported to be in a relationship with Miss McKay, if she contacts him, tell him to tell us immediately." Saunders said, her and her partner already getting into their car.

"Fine." I roll my eyes secretly, "Good bye."

When they drive off, I get the sudden urge to go back to the gym and beat the fucking life and sand out of a punchbag. Instead I head inside, cursing, "Fucking douchebagin', scumbag, blonde-fucking, serial-killing cocksucker!" I fling my bag to no where in particular and I growl, "Dexter you fucking cunt! Why did you have to be a serial killer?!"

"So I was right all alone." Could be heard behind me. On instinct I whip the SMG from my shorts and turn and aim only for my eyes to widen at the person I was staring at.

"L-LaGuerta?!"

* * *

Cliffhanger! Alright, I want some reviews guys! Please!


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